Wakener
by Sacide Darkpath
Summary: A human rogue plays diplomat when she catches wind of the Klaxxi begrudgingly accepting aid from outsiders. Driven by her lust of knowledge and their rich culture, she is given more than she bargained for when interacting and assisting the Paragons. [Collection of one-shots involving the Wakener and Paragons, written in no particular order]
1. Kil'ruk, the Wind-Reaver

When the adventurer had picked up diplomacy, she never, in all of her years, would imagine to be in the position she was.

The adventurer herself did not stick out much – save for the fact that she was human, but she made it so she was dull; and easily lost in a crowd. From head to toe, she wore black leather armour; intricate details woven in to hide the empowering, inlaid gems and enchantments, a mask that covered half of her face; but keeping her washed blue eyes and dirty blonde hair free.

Although her hair was self-cut, and it showed by the horrible jaggedness thanks to her daggers, which currently laid snugly against either side of her hips, in their sheathe. She gave a hidden smile the more she thought back on it, her friends were incredulous, but she pointed out that it was better than paying the price the goblin barbers charged.

But she had been like a sore thumb walking at the Shrine of the Seven Stars, and the Shado-Pan were quick to call her over. It wasn't particularly unknown that she pitched in to help the varying allied factions, the Offensive, The Golden Lotus, the August Celestials, but when Riki of the Shifting Shadow mentioned 'Klaxxi', her mind went blank.

_'We know little of the Mantid, and less so of the Klaxxi.' _She had said. '_but we are not so blind to see their surprisingly advanced weaponry and strategy. If we could some how ally these.. Klaxxi.. then it would pave way to better equipment and a new resource, this.. Amber that they use.'_

'_and what of the reward?' _The adventurer, Sherrah Swiftstrike (this, she had changed, as her original family name was embarrassingly Witherfield. She was born to an unsuccessful farmer) muttered.

Riki merely gave her a sidelong glance, somewhat pitiful. '_We do not know, human. A swift death? Power beyond your belief? We trust that you will be able to get out of there should the former be true. You will find them in the Dread Wastes.'_

The Dread Wastes are the southern portion of Townlong region separated from the rest of Pandaria mainland by the great wall, Serpent's Spine. It is very similiar to its northern counterpart, except that it apparently became twisted by sinister energies and a dark gloom blankets over the land along with a swath of sha-corrupted soil that has even managed to break through the wall into the Valley of the Four Winds.

It was aptly named, too. Her ebony gryphon had acted up the moment they entered the swampish desert, snorting and squawking and throwing the ride off, before flying away to safety. Luckily, the rogue's penchant of landing, rolling, and spreading the fall, meant that she was able to survive being chucked off her mount. From there, she had to traverse on foot.

From there, it had been a spiral of insanity, she thought. Caught up in Mantid politics as she was elected the honorary title of Wakener, which roughly translated to 'slave', she was pretty sure. Being a 'lesser race' to them, she was treated with the barest of tolerance. It was bad enough they were accepting her help, but they couldn't outright disembowel the intruder, too.

So far, she had managed to awaken Kil'ruk, the Wind-Reaver.

Presently, having done all of her tasks for the day, it was quite easy to locate the armour clad paragon, amongst the weapon racks. She nimbly navigated through the smaller mantids – ambersmiths and messengers – and stood beside him. The Paragon paid her no attention, not until she hauled herself up on the weapon rack, perching delicately and careful not to get skewered by an amber spear.

There, she was somewhat more equal to his great height. On the floor; she barely came up to his forelegs. When she could feel his eyes finally look to her, she straightened up and spoke.

"From what I know of the Mantid, you aren't supposed to be able to dive the way you do." Sherrah started, and then not too subtly glanced to the side of him and taking note of his webbed, yet strong wings. "Is it some kind of.. birth defect?"

While the rogue shared the same method of attack – two daggers, hers scavenged by old Pandaren metal, while his specifically crafted from the strongest Amber to suit him – the Wind-Reaver had almost lost track of the amount of stupid questions and narrow-mindedness she displayed.

Thus, he took it upon himself and grab her by a handful of the small amount of hair she had, pick her up off the weapon rack, and toss her to the ground, a sickeningly, yet satisfying thud reaching his antennae as the unexpected action did not give her enough time to properly land. He cocked his head, watching her groan and pick herself up.

"To answer your question, Wakener, no, it is not." he clicked, chittered, regarding her ruefully. "But, you are correct. Fliers are not meant to dive the way I do, for it would shred their wings, and the impact would crush them."

He continued. "I watched a hawk. From there, I practised."

"Is that how you became a Paragon?" she asked, lightly clicking her jaw back into place and wincing as the aching pain lingered.

He faltered for a moment, however with the way his mandiles clicked together, she could hazard a guess as that was him smiling, or smirking. One of the two. "Perhaps I will tell you, one day, of how I became a Paragon, Wakener. I believe you would appreciate it."

"Oh?"

He nods; antennae twitching. "You are fascinated by our culture. This much is obvious. If you continue aiding us, I will reward you with my tale."

She wrinkled her nose; when people talked of rewards, they pictured gold and silver, shiny new weapons and protective armour, trinkets of vast possibility – even the reins of a beast to ride upon. However Kil'ruk had a point. Now that she was able to walk somewhat freely around Klaxxi'vas, and learn of their history, their nature and culture, she was completely engrossed and entirely dependant on learning more. With a sigh, she nodded.

"I'd like that, Wind-Reaver. For now, I'll be heading out into the Wastes again. Grant me your enhancement, I will need it."

His smirk spread. "Very well. Gather enough enemies, and I will strike from the sky."

* * *

_A/N: Welcome to my third story! This will feature several oneshots of the Wakener interacting with the Paragons in varying ways. Because hell yeah Klaxxi._

_This is also written IN NO ORDER. Simply of what I have inspiration first. I want to give all of them unique personalities more than what they're given ingame (ala ToC Champions style. I think I did pretty well there.)_

_The Wakener is one of my characters, a human rogue by the name of Sherrah. She's a diplomat amongst other things, but we learn more about her little by little each chapter. Heck, we might even have an appearance from her husband. :3._

_Also please excuse the catagory and character choice. There is no choice for Mantid nor Klaxxi. :l_

_This story is rated T for violence and a hefty amount of physical abuse (with poison effects added on) so you are warned. Should it get too far, or people feel unnerved, I will bump the rating up to M just in case. For now, I think it's tolerable. _


	2. Xaril, the Poisoned Mind

"Wakener, oh, Wakener!"

That title was something that Sherrah had begun to dread most when she toiled about in Klaxxi'ves, doing the strenuous tasks that the Paragons set upon her. She easily could identify whom had called her, and she tensed up; gritting her teeth, and forced a pleasant, submissive look to her face as she turned on her heel and trotted up to the Mantid, like a dog being beckoned by it's master.

"What needs to be done, Poisoned Mind?" she replied, as if it became such a robotic, and automated thing for her. When he did not immediately dump a task for her to do that required trekking halfway across The Dread Wastes to collect this, or kill that, she was suspicious. He took his time, raising up a vial, held delicately in his hands. In it, swirled a concoction of green fluid, that bore an orange, amber tint.

Xaril spared her a glance. "You didn't tell me you was a alchemist."

"Alchemist?" she echoed, befuddled, before her eyes widened. "Oh! Poisoned Mind- Don't get me wrong. I merely dabble in the basics to create my own poisons. I doubt my skill would even come close to yours."

He wave her off with a free hand. "I must sample your work. Make a fresh batch of your toxins. I will watch."

Lovely. To say Xaril was her least favourite Paragon, was an understatement. It wasn't that he abused her as much as the others did, or that his tasks were that difficult or life risking, but ever since she Wakened him, he was constantly buzzing on about how he was the Empresses' finest alchemist, peerless, and above all, and other ego-boosting rants. That, and she begrudgingly respected his brilliant work, and was utterly jealous.

Thus, she hesitantly stepped up to his alchemist bench, Xaril politely stepping aside yet rudely using his height to hover and linger over her. She grumbled something under her breath, producing crystal vials of her own. Making sure her gloves were on, she also produced a mortar and pestle, and placed two strands of deathweed in there.

Xaril watched her carefully, clicking his mandibles in thought. He observed that her method of alchemy was very primitive compared to his; she did not even touch the lab in front of her. He tutted in disappointment at appropriate moments, when she hesitated or if she lingered too long on a step of the process. Eventually, she placed the cork into the bottle; a murky green fluid filling it.

He took it off her hands before she could even present it to him, moving it to his eyes and squinting, before uncorking it and, to the rogue's horror, _drinking _the entire thing.

"X-Xaril! That's Deadly-"

"-useless, as I thought." he finished, tossing the vial. Of course, it had no effect on him, and the human was dumbfounded. She gawked, seeing that he was completely unharmed, not so much as a small fever or even stomach ache. Complete immunity. He noted her look, and chittered in a way that signalled his laughter

"Have you ever tried drinking poison, Wakener?" he asked curiously. "Do it long enough, and you will be quite used to it. The toxin you created is hardly potent enough to even breach my immune system. On perhaps an animal or another of your lesser races, perhaps it will suffice.. but we should never settle for second best."

With the mischievous glint that shone in his eyes, that could only mean pain for her.

"I must take it upon myself to assist you, then. If you pose an immunity to the likes of my venom I can create, than you shall be properly defended against any sort of biological attack. Yes.. this – yes, we will do this."

"Uhm, sorry to interrupt, Poisoned Mind." she cut in quickly. "But I don't suppose you mean by me drinking your serums? I prefer to keep my limbs, and, my life."

He chuckled once more. "Not the entire serum, dear Wakener! I will create a mild dose of the original poison. There, you will ingest only a few drops. It will most likely make you violently ill, but I shall claim you for the next few days. You wont have to worry of the other's work."

"D-Don't I get a say in this? I particularly-"

"No." he finished. "You don't."

Sherrah could tolerate the rough handling of the Paragons – it was merely to be expected, to them, she was a 'lesser being', even if she had slightly more purpose and use than the average one. She accepted that, way before she even got involved. As a diplomat on several occasions, she was used to poor treatment of those who would look down upon her secondary profession (her first, of course, being a rogue.)

But she would not settle on being poisoned that could very likely kill her. As he towered over her; he easily trapped her in place as he hummed and created the mild sample. Her eyes darted everywhere, and she caught sight of Kil'ruk.

The Wind-Reaver had been curiously watching them, and she lowered her mask, mouthing '_help me'_

Kil'ruk did not help her.

As the alchemist finished, he glanced down to her. "Open wide, Wakener." he said, and when she decidedly tightened her jaw and leaned back, trying to find escape routes, he rolled his eyes, grabbing her chin and yanking her mouth open. She let out a gurgled protest as drops of the poison was dipped onto her tongue, and he forced her mouth shut, holding it in place so she didn't try to spit it out.

The taste was foul. It clung to the back of her throat, burning, it was sharp and even tangy. Unpleasant didn't even began to describe it. Xaril finally let go of her, stepping aside as she sprang forward. At the moment, nothing happened. She still felt the taste and then-

Oh.

She felt herself wobbling, as searing pain exploded and spread all around her body like wildfire. She was dizzy, and felt herself unbalanced. Xaril watched her with analytical eyes, noting down her reactions accordingly. She kept having to swallow the excess amount of saliva she suddenly produced, sometimes unsuccessful as it dribbled out of her mouth. That could only mean one thing, and the nausea that flooded her confirmed it.

She fell to her knees, unable to even walk without collapsing, as she vomited on the ground. The noise was horrendous; and several Mantid actually acknowledged her existence for a moment, before returning to their own business. Xaril side-stepped, easily avoiding the contents of her stomach as, the moment she stopped, the smell of it caused another violent start.

"Interesting.. well, she is not dead yet.. that is promising." the Poisoned Mind muttered all to loudly.

Sherrah pitifully crawled, finding the very act of mobility to be too painful. Paralysis seized her legs, and she relied on her arms to move. Numbness swiftly overtook the parts of her body that burned in unimaginable agony. Lightly, she wiped her mouth, suddenly shaking intensely, cold sweat breaking out of her.

Her leather armour was constrictive, and she felt so utterly hot – feverish. Yet her skin would be ice cold to the touch. She shot the blackest look she could muster to Xaril, the best she could in the sorry state she was in.

He hummed nonchalantly. "You'll be thanking me for this, Wakener. When a Mantid Agent tries to poison you, he will be shocked to find himself failing."

The very least he did, was pick the sick, poisoned girl up and placed her up on the alchemy bench. He found himself a bucket too, or at least a container for any more throwing up. She closed her streaming eyes, beads of sweat lining her entire face, hair damp and clinging.

For two weeks, she was ill. The symptoms never changed much; always the high fever, vomiting and brief, sporadic moments of paralysis in her limbs. She had been allowed to strip to her undershirt and pants (the rogue found that the mantid honestly didn't care for modesty. She could run stark naked and nothing would happen.) to fight the heat, but other than that, her immune system had to do the work.

Eventually, she did get better. Xaril was kind enough to at least _feed_ her, even if the most she could get down was the horrible watery mess he created. When she was fit and healthy, he gave her four drops, and she was only ill for a week.

He gave her five drops, and she was only ill for six days. He never exceeded the five drops, for whatever reason, but each time he poisoned her, it took less and less recovery time, to the point where the last time he did, she only went the day with mild stomach pain, and a cold.

He tried administering the poison one more time, but likewise, it was mildly effectively, and she could easily perform her duties to the Klaxxi as if she was fit and healthy. He smiled proudly.

"Congratulations, Wakener." he said, the day after she was well again. "You managed to survive. There was an eight-five percent chance of you dying the first day the experiment begun. Know now, that you are somewhat resistant to a mild mantid poison. To your.. err.."

"Human."

"Right. To your human poisons, you will barely notice it." He grinned, antennae twitching excitedly. "I think I spoil you with rewards too much!"

Sherrah did not even comment.


	3. Rik'kal the Dissector

After being called over by Kor'ik, a mantid that was relatively her size (thank the Light!), he served as her main source of information when it came for finding the other Paragons and offering the tools to awaken them. He treated her no less than the others did, but he had never laid a finger on her. She assumed that was because he thought she was 'tainted', being the human she is.

His forelegs twitched in anticipation as he spoke quickly. "We have just intercepted a message from an adjunct on Zan'vess. Yaungol laborers there have unearthed a paragon in the amber quarry on the back side of the island." he paused, looking to her as she glanced away in thought.

"Get there immediately! Before the Zan'thik destroy him!" he hissed, urging her forward with his words. With a small grumble, the human nodded.

She swiftly made her way over to a paragon she was quickly becoming more acquainted with. The Wind-Reaver merely had to glance at her to understand her needs.

"I believed I said not to get used to it." he murmured. Sherrah grinned behind her mask.

"I know, but time is of the essence, and you are faster than any beast in my care. Please, take me to Zan'vess. Another paragon is to the awakened." Kil'ruk nodded knowingly, and allowed her to climb onto his back, careful of his wings as she crouched precariously on him. They had somewhat perfected the positioning, granting the rogue some comfort while giving the mantid complete space for his thin, yet powerful wings.

He slowly lowered himself, before launching into the air and beat his wings rapidly; gaining a steady rhythm as he turned and flew south-west. During the flight, she was relatively silent, as it always was, but there was a question on her mind.

"The Paragons I have awakened are acting more familiar with me now than I did when I first awakened them. Yourself included, Wind-Reaver. I'm not complaining, but I am curious."

The mantid bobbed his head. "It's a phenomenon. We.. it's speculated, but the process of rousing us from our sleep.. very painful, like dying.. is akin to the Empress bringing the swarmborn into our world." he shifted uncomfortably. "None of us want to admit that we do feel a.. bond, shall we call it, towards you, Wakener."

Kil'ruk fell quiet, before hesitantly continuing. "It is why we gave you that title. That is why you are of _slightly_ more importance to us, than any other human. You should find it an extreme honour. You should be very proud we bestow it upon you."

Sherrah found herself mute, even as the Wind-Reaver finished up with a few words. "Begrudgingly, we do respect you, Wakener. We simply show it in our own way."

"So Xaril's near killing me..?" she finally said, but the mantid shook his head; antennae flicking back and forth.

"You're being small minded again. Don't make me drop you. He was not killing you. He was strengthening you, making you immune to potent toxins. He has already starting babbling on about teaching you alchemy, too." He turned his head back briefly to look at her.

"You are still so new to our culture, Wakener. Keep an open mind."

She sighed, reluctantly nodding. Thus, the rest of the journey was in silence.

* * *

Sherrah believed she may of crowned Xaril her least favourite paragon too soon.

After having awoken this new paragon, she was surprised to see him.. rather small for a mantid. Herself came to his armoured chest; and his antennae were curled at the ends. Unlike the others, he possessed no weapon that she could spy on him; aside from natural ones like his claws and forelegs. However, she put that aside when Zan'thik started to swarm them, attempting to get to the Dissector.

She was no stranger to his watchful eyes, even despite his waned strength and recovery process. She dipped and swerved under the spear of a Zan'thik Impaler, stepping into the shadows only to appear right behind her target. A swift thrust of her daggers and followed mutilation, before she kicked back and blended with the darkness of the Wastes.

With a cheap shot; she stunned the assailant, ending her combo strikes with a finishing eviscerate. Kicking the mantid's corpse off her daggers, Sherrah threw a glance as more came to assault them.

Shortly after, when they found that they were no match for the human; especially now with Rik'kal's returned strength, they left. The Dissector clicked cheerfully, smiling widely and rubbing his hands together gleefully – not at their victory, but at something less than savoury.

"Look at you!" he exclaimed, causing her to briefly tense, and glancing at herself, before back up to Rik'kal. "So many parts and pieces.. yes.."

It occurred to her, that his title was 'Dissector'. She took a tentative step back when he took one forward. He seized one of her arms, inspecting it with the utmost curiosity, running a claw from the upper arm to her wrist. Even with her leather armour; he could easily feel the bone structure beneath.

"Fascinating.." he muttered to himself. Eventually, he let go, and she was quick to put a respectable amount of distance between them. He found it wholly amusing. "One day, I will pick your brains, Wakener. Hehehe.. for now, I will report to the Klaxxi."

She hoped he hadn't been serious, but as she herself returned to Klaxxi'ves to report the successful wakening, she already found the Dissector hassling other poor mantids about.. something to do with 'a session of micro-sonic deep gene-probing'. Sherrah tried to avoid eye contact with him; but the moment he sensed her presence, he was persistent. With a heavy sigh, she approached the paragon.

"Your kind is so intriguing, Wakener! Human, is it called? At first, I thought you were some sort of hairless Pandaren, but you're far too skinny for that." he babbled on, inspecting his claws. The rogue remained silent, allowing him to continue.

"Many parts.. and pieces, and eyes -"

"Dissector.." she interrupted carefully. If anything, she did NOT want to be missing limbs and other sort. Being poisoned was one thing. This, was entirely different. "I need to finish the rest of my work. Poisoned Mind and Wind-Reaver still have tasks for me."

Rik'kul tapped his amber coloured talons together, humming thoughtfully, before a knowing smirk rose to his face. "I watched how you kill. It's a little sloppy, but I can show you how to make perfect incisions. .. provided, you help me first."

"Oh?" she dryly asked.

"Oh, yes indeed! All I'm asking is for, hm, some tissue samples – perhaps maybe a micro-sonic deep gene-probing session, you know, enhancing you and giving me research ooh, while I'm at it, a vivisection-"

"What's that, Poisoned Mind?" she suddenly yelled all to loudly, even causing the one in question to blink and look at her in confusion. "You have new serums for me to drink? Gotta keep up my immunity! Sorry, Dissector. Another time, maybe!"

Xaril was all too delighted to hear she wanted to move onto stronger poisons, only to be disappointed when he was merely used for her to skip out on her "duties" to the Dissector. He couldn't exactly blame her, the paragon was more than a little obsessed when it came to his work. He watched as Rik'kal was more than happy to continue pestering the others while the Wakener was 'busy'.

* * *

_A/N: I think I just want to clear up that this story does not completely follow lore._

_Because Sherrah isn't THE Wakener, canonly. That's like claiming she was a canon character's sibling or something. But for the sake of the story, she's always called that and such. I hope maybe you'll be able to see your own character in her position if you don't like her._

_FYI, my personal favourite Paragon is Kaz'tik the Manipulator. Whose next, by the way._


	4. Kaz'tik the Manipulator

Kaz'tik the Manipulator was forever a mystery to the middle-aged diplomat.

Really, she believed she was getting too old for all of this. Being at such an ancient age of thirty-eight, the rogue was a veteran when it came to combat, due to the years of experience under her belt. Many fall much earlier in battle, warriors die young, never to pass a milestone year. It had been part of the reason to take up such a social profession this late into her life – because she knew if she stayed out in the field, doing scouting and assassination work, she would of met the grave.

Although, if things continued how they did, she'd meet her end by the hands of these mantid. Either she'd end up a horrific genetic mess (thank you, Rik'kal) or a dissected specimen of inquiry (thank you Rik'kal again.) She was morbidly beginning to bet every day what sort of injuries she would sustain by late nightfall, and it was disturbing how quickly her guesses were becoming more and more accurate.

She only really begun her self-thinking journey because of the aforementioned mantid – Kaz'tik. His awakening had left a rather odd feeling inside of her, because he knew every single one of her thoughts – but only to that extent. Sherrah had felt the cold prickle against her mind, him trying to enter where he shouldn't, and he was abruptly shut off when it felt all too invasive. She hadn't done it knowingly, even if he seemed impressed at her unwitting defence. She simply felt another's mind trying to dominate hers all before, and reacted accordingly.

It was their "bond." she reckoned. The "bond" between Wakener and Paragon. Perhaps that was what thwarted Kaz'tik's all too often attempts. Sherrah remembered, vaguely, what thoughts of his he left implanted into her mind. He complimented her mental strength, and that controlling her would be near impossible. He followed on to say how her thoughts both entertained and intrigued him, and he was shocked to find a lesser race's thoughts, structure and mind to be as complex as say, his.

He found potential in her, but she wasn't about to be easy-going around the Paragon. True, he was the least of them to inflict any sort of harm on her, but he played a much more dangerous game. Sherrah often wondered why he trailed off from his statement of trying to control her. 'Near' impossible. _Near, _but not _completely._

And that's what bothered her.

Then there was the Kunchong, Kovok. The less that was said about that spoilt-rotten beast, the better. Simply because, if Sherrah was ever alone with the little fiend, she would kick it from the Dread Wastes all the way to the Eastern Kingdoms and back. She really didn't know what Kaz'tik saw in the thing. More often than not, it would openly attack her, and Kaz'tik would chuckle, cooing softly that it must mean Kovok liked her.

"Holy Light forgive me for swearing in your name, but I would gladly do so if it meant ridding of that foul demon.." she grumbled, nimbly hopping over a sha-infested branch as she made the perilously boring journey back to Klaxxi'vess.

It seemed to be a reoccurring theme that the Paragon made it back to the Klaxxi hub far before she did. As the new arrival; Rik'kal had already scuttled up to Kaz'tik, claw tips itching as his eyes seemed quite focused upon Kovok – something that Kaz'tik did not appreciate. Sherrah felt herself smile behind her mask, approaching the two as she caught the tail end of their discussion.

"..any resistance to sonic manipulation." the Manipulator flatly stated. "How would you like to suddenly become 'intrigued' by your own thorax? I bet your skilled hands could perform a self-vivisection in mere seconds if they were properly compelled."

The Dissector flinched, shrinking back. He spared a glance to the Wakener, but merely gave an awkward laugh. "Point taken." he muttered, leaving the other Paragon to his business. Folding her arms, Sherrah glanced up at Kaz'tik with a arched eyebrow.

"He is.. rather eccentric, wouldn't you agree?" he told her instead, grinning airily. "There is something to be admired from enthusiasm. I have often found that the turnout of one's efficiency is much more if they enjoy their work than if they resent it. You'd do well to remember that."

It was her turn to flinch now. Of course, he had seen all of her thoughts, to the smallest, spontaneous ones, to the silly, to the deepest, darkest impulses. There had been many a time when she thought it would be _so easy _to kill one of her friends, and she found herself appalled for always having random thoughts like that. It wasn't that her friends were weak and she could easily best them – far from it – but the element of surprise and betrayal would be on her side.

"I don't.. **hate** my work here." she finally responded. "But there are some aspects that are left undesired. Safe to say, I'm getting used to the treatment."

Kaz'tik tilted his head; staring at her for the longest moment. Ah- there it was. The feel in her mind, like icy hands stroking her conscious thoughts. She, like always, refused to back down, staring him directly in his eyes and daring him to try anything.

"You're becoming more confident." he noted, and the feeling stopped. "You should embrace these so called 'undesirable' aspects. It will train you to become better, as long as you are willing to learn, that is. From what I gather, you have picked up a great deal from us already, have you not, Wakener?"

She paused.

True, she had become more poison resistant, she was starting to become more pain tolerant – more so than her life of combat already given her. She picked up various skills like skinning a mantid's wing and keeping it in pristine condition, and actively using her skills day in and day out was always good practise, as opposed to the long stakeouts and barely any action on the field. She was also beginning to learn their history from Kil'ruk, their ways and their culture.

But, to get to that point, she had to endure a near daily amount of abuse, as well as basically two fortnights of illness, and already on top of that, there was the lack of proper social and emotional interaction with anyone outside the Klaxxi, which was seriously starting to wear down on her health. She was a little homesick, and she did dearly missed her beloved.

Kaz'tik smiled knowingly, without her even replying.

"Nothing is given for free, dear Wakener. You have to earn your rewards. You will also learn to overcome needs like.. social interaction, did you call it?"

"I wish you would stop probing my mind!" she hissed suddenly, taking a step forward and pointing accusingly at the Paragon. Sadly, it was hard to look intimidating when you was half their size and considered non-threatening. The mantid on the other hand, shook his head at her display, as if predictable.

"Hm, well, Wakener. Simply because you _wish _it, doesn't mean it will be stopped. I rather like your thoughts, very amusing. You are not very good at holding alcohol, are you?"

"It was one time!" she snapped, red tints marring her cheeks as she recalled that memory. "I was young- and that is beside the point!" Sherrah took a deep; calming breath. Her temper was flaring up, and she did not want to explode on a Paragon in the middle of Klaxxi'vess with onlookers. Kaz'tik clearly was playing her, and she knew it. He wanted her to get angry, he wanted her to make a fool of herself in front of the Klaxxi elders and the other Paragons. She would show him.

He beat her to it, however, a coy smile raising to his lips.

"What will you do, Wakener? If met with an enemy with similar skills (scoff) to mine, are you going to beg and ask nicely for them to stop, or do something about it? After all, I may not be able to control you, but there are some thoughts I saw that can be used against you." He tutted disapprovingly.

"It's such a shame that cleverly placed words could easily be your downfall. I saw so much potential, too."

She tensed; her body shaking. Oh, her anger was surfacing, she knew exactly what he was speaking of. Something she promised nobody would ever find out, something she tried to forget and ram it to the back of her mind. But he, although hard to control or communicate with her, was able to dig it up.

"Emotions certainly get in the way, yes? Personally, I agreed with your choice then." he continued, deliberately provoking her. "And he never suspected. What was it, training accident, did you tell him? He believed you. You know, I think he would of left if he knew the truth, yet you can't live without him. Pity."

Her hands hovered over the hilt of her daggers; but even she wouldn't be so stupid as to try and.. silence, Kaz'tik. In the heart of Klaxxi'vess, she might as well kill herself than attempt to kill him.

But his words continue to batter her, and the memory was ripped from it's vault and stained fresh in her mind. She slowly closed her eyes, lest they water from lingering on it too long, and her hands clenched into fists. Sherrah wasn't so completely blind to what he was trying to do. He was making a point, first and foremost. But she still hated him more than anyone else, at this very moment.

"Teach me how to block out mental invaders." the Wakener said, voice neutral yet with the smallest of wavers. "How to stop intrusion or whisperings of madness. You say my mind is strong, well, help me become stronger, and build a defence."

Kaz'tik's smile grew, and he clasped his clawed hands. "Gladly. Oh, and Wakener?"

"What?"

He cuffed her behind the ears, jolting her forward and nearly sending her to the floor with the unannounced action. "That was for the thought about my beautiful Kovok. He is _not _a demon." he sniffed. "After our training, you'll be feeding him tonight."

Sherrah grumbled, shoulders slumping in defeat. She just never got a break.


	5. Skeer the Bloodseeker

Doing mindless tasks was not the only thing the Wakener found herself accomplishing

With the help of Kaz'tik, she and the mentioned Paragon fought tooth and nail against the Saurok – a race of lizard-men the Mogu had created from fauna (the rogue did not pretend she understood Pandaria's vast races and history, and simply nodded along when it was explained to her) – to secure an area before Zan'vess known as the Briny Muck.

The place itself was a shallow-water region, separating Zan'vess from the rest of the Dread Wastes. Securing the 'Muck was not only wise, as it meant more territory to the Klaxxi, but also if any of the scouts found more paragons there. As the lizard-men were deeply encroached in the area; it had proven useless beforehand. With her and the Manipulator's combined efforts, they captured the area and helped Infiltrator Ik'thal create a small base of operations for a flight system from there to Klaxxi'vess.

Speaking of the home base of the Council, Sherrah had just arrived back, blades coated with blood of the saurok, and the dark substance painting her black leather crimson. She need only taken two steps before Kil'ruk intercepted her path; grabbing her attention before she most likely would be whisked away on another task.

"Our efforts to secure the shallows have paid off." he started with, pausing when she scoffed at 'our'. It was mostly her doing the work, and they both knew it. "We have spotted another paragon buried in amber, hidden in the waters to the southwest."

She held up her hand. "Say no more, Wind-Reaver. I'm on the case. Playing alarm-clock has always been my favourite part. So, who will it be this time? 'Fluffy the Terrible'? 'Destroyer of Humans'? 'Devourer of Lesser Racers?'"

Perhaps she was a _little _(okay, a lot.) sour because of Kaz'tik's treatment. Her 'training' had more or less resulted in him constantly bringing up unwanted memories and her trying to stop his prying. It didn't work quite as planned, and she was still tasting the bitterness of that session.

He responded with a rather hard yank of her ear, and she sucked in a breath, hissing in pain as she felt the humming amber of a single, finely crafted dagger press just under her chin, the point to her neck. The rogue barely had time to react, and he quite effectively had her in a lock.

"Are you mocking us?" he answered calmly. "I don't care what happened between you and the Manipulator, but you are becoming cocky. Confidence is one thing until it turn into arrogance, and I needn't remind you of the _company _you're in."

She sobered up, and he let her go, sheathing the dagger. Sherrah mildly was thankful it was Kil'ruk she decided to be petulant with; because he was the most lenient with her. He only really "punished" or hurt her when she truly deserved it, like now.

"I apologise, Wind-Reaver. It's not cockiness – it's just.. low tolerance for the Manipulator's training. I'm a diplomat first and foremost, I shouldn't insult my hosts."

Kil'ruk nodded slowly. "As strange as it sounds, Wakener, I can sympathize with you. You most likely feel alone out here, and unlike most Paragons.." he pointedly looked to Kaz'tik. "..I understand your need for basic social interaction."

She shifted uncomfortably.

"Go, awaken this paragon. Time is of the essence."

The rogue dipped her head and left.

* * *

Sherrah was an excellent swimmer, and she was thankful she was.

Months in Vashj'ir had seen to that; her speed wasn't exactly about to set any records any time soon, nor would she ever be able to outswim a Naga or other sea-dwelling creature. But she liked to think she was swift. More importantly, was experting kills in the water.

This was relevant, as it turned out that the Paragon she was to awaken had somehow ended up in an underwater cavern. Ingesting a potion of water breathing, courtesy of Xaril, it took some time before she found the entrance, and it was infested with Muckscale Skinflayers, common soldiers of the saurok.

She blended with the dark shadows of the grotto, stepping lightly, like an elf on the snow, daggers drawn. She barely breathed; no south emitted from her as she approached behind one of the lizard-men. She spread her arms, and then quicker than a rat trap, she sliced it's throat. It gurgled out; blood spewing from her incisions and flopping to the floor, in a pool of it's own blood.

This alerted the other saurok, as they yelled and spat and tried tackling the rogue. But the woman was quicker. She rolled to the side, thrusting her dagger forward into one ambling saurok and then suddenly spinning and kicking the other out of the air, mere moments away from pouncing her. She stamped her foot heavily down upon it's chest, winding it and momentarily dazing the Muckscale long enough for her to deal with the other.

It gave an bestial hiss; trying to futile stab the woman, but to no avail. Their daggers met, but Sherrah dual-wielded. She used her other one to pierce and insert it into the jugular of this saurok. A similar gurgle escaped him as it did the first, and his corpse dropped.

The one she winded sprung back up, successfully tackling her to the floor. They rolled, and she lifted her knee quickly to try and knock him off, but it did little more than to aggravate the lizard. It snapped, only held at bay by her arm to his neck and his claws slashing blindly at her; snagging on her tough leather armour.

She used her free hand to draw up some powder that was milled from herbs that caused irritant properties, flicking it into the purple eyes of the beast. It howled, weakening as she rolled out from underneath it. It swiped aimlessly, but she retrieved her dagger from the second fallen corpse and took care of the blinded one.

Sherrah balefully looked to the snags in her armour. Pity. That would mean a trip to the ambersmith, and, as the name suggested, he didn't quite specialise in leather. Oh well. She looked up, focusing on the ancient amber chunk as she produced the tuning fork and gave a whack.

The song of amber echoed in the grotto; pleasant and loud. The amber cracked; and liquid spewed out; revealing the Paragon.

"Skeer the Bloodseeker has returned! Uhnngh..."

She looked away politely as the Paragon... displayed a moment of weakness, she would call it. As told, she did not comment, or even react to it. The Klaxxi were quick; the song having been heard. Skeer was being briefed. He nodded.

"It appears that Empress Shek'zeer has let our empire fall into chaos. This we must address. But first, I must regain my strength. .." he finally turned, looking to the Wakener.

"Food. Bring me food. You will hunt for me... ah.. Wakener. This will do. I believe Starfish Meat will suffice.. and the tails of the briny clackers." He paused for a moment, taking a second to gather his bearing, sniffing the air, short antennas twitching in anticipation. "Blood. Bring me blood, too, of the fierces predators in the sea."

"Go now. Or I'll devour you instead."

"Pleasant." she commented. "I suppose it's not the worse threat I've heard in my time here. You'll have to beat 'deep-gene probing' and 'attempted dominance of mind'."

He snickered, apparently growing fond of her sense of humour. "Quickly now, Wakener. I hunger."

Thus, she turned, and dived into the murky waters once more.

* * *

When she returned, a dozen or so saurok corpses – more so than the ones she had defeated before, had littered around Skeer. He had helped himself to what she had left before leaving; and it had given him enough strength to kill the lizards that tried to seek their fallen brothers. She stared at him; he was utterly coated with the gore.

"...I wet my hands with saurok blood when you was away."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, handing him the collected food and blood. He helped himself to it. "Can I not leave you for two seconds? As the Wakener, I have to see fit that you regain your strength. If you had gone.." she trailed off.

Skeer cleared his throat. "I'm sorry-" Wait. Did he just _apologise _to her? Light. "-but I could not help myself."

The sounds of angry saurok were quickly becoming audible and known.

He gave a dark smile. "They believe they can win against me. I, the one who have won a hundred wars. They will crumple, Wakener, and you shall fight alongside me, and you will know why they call me the Bloodseeker."

The saurok poured in, and the Wakener and Bloodseeker fought together, in perfect unity. There, they were bathed in blood; and the rogue did not care for the crimson liquid to be stuck to her damp and frazzled hair; nor did she care for the scent of death and blood and viscera to be attached to her. She took out all of her frustrations out on the lizards, lest she had a repeat of hours ago.

Only when they finished their bloodshed, did she look down at herself and grimace. "It's going to take ages to get the blood out of the leather.. and my hair for that matter.."

Skeer laughed, invigorated by the fight. "Why, Wakener. I dare say it's most becoming on you! Well done. I will stay a little longer, to quench my blade's thirst. Return to Klaxxi'vess, although, I believe my swift wings may beat you."

"Why don't you just carry me there? It'd be quicker." she pointed out.

He stared at her like she suddenly grew a second head. "Don't be so foolish. I'm not a taxi service." he snickered once more, and roughly shoved her forward, although the action was in jest. "Go now, little Wakener. Klaxxi'vess awaits."

_At least my attitude has improved. Maybe I just needed a good killing. _She thought as she left the grotto and winced at her own thoughts. _By the Light. I'm becoming more and more like them. Note to self: No matter what tomorrow, I am taking the day off. They can survive without their Wakener for twenty four hours, right?_

_...Well, I don't want angry mantids on my hands. Maybe just the morning. They're least active then. _

She didn't know how wrong she was.


	6. Hisek the Swarmkeeper

Indeed, she spent the morning away from the Dread Wastes. At the Shrine of the Seven Stars, she thought her luck paid off when she spotted a very familiar man there as well. A soft smile rose to her lips. What are they chances of catching him, also too free of the burden of work?

She called out to him; and sprinted. He barely had enough time to turn before she barrelled into him. The human man laughed, catching her, spinning, and ending with a hug. "Well, hello to you too." he started cheekily. "Thought you was neck-deep in the politics of bugs."

"And I thought you.." she replied, her tone teasing. "..were busy with the Golden Lotus."

"Ah, well.. you know." he murmured sheepishly, escaping having to explain his presence with sealing her lips with his. She smiled, wrapping her arms lazily around his neck. Oh yes, she missed this for sure. It certainly beat boredly waiting in the company of mantids for a Paragon to be revealed or a task to be dropped onto her shoulders.

"Reassigned, actually." Meridia Swiftstrike told her as he broke the kiss. "I'm now assisting the Shado-Pan in Townlong Steppes. Which isn't so bad.. I'm that much closer to you." He paused, parting them as he eyed her.

"What on Azeroth are the Klaxxi _doing_ to you?"

Sherrah laughed awkwardly. She knew her husband – he would storm Klaxxi'vess if he knew she was harmed. She was still coated in blood from her session with Skeer, she waved it off. "Oh, you know. It's not my blood, before you think of that. Saurok, actually. The Bloodseeker is ah.. aptly named, shall we say."

He pursed his lips, not fully believing her, but didn't pursue the topic any further. "Alright.. you'd tell me if they hurt you, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would. Don't say such silly things. Now come on. I think I need to get cleaned up." a small grin rose to her face, replacing the soft smile of before.

"Oh? Is that an invitation?" he murmured, a roguish smirk spreading.

"Yes. You clean my armour while I clean myself."

He pouted in fake disappointment, and the two of them returned to the room they had rented in the inn.

* * *

With the morning spent, she had to of returned to the Dread Wastes eventually. She said her farewells to her husband after sharing a .. passionate exchange, and she hummed softly to herself, walking towards Klaxxi'vess. Her armour was clean and repaired, herself felt clean too. Thoroughly refreshed, with the lingering scent of snowplums.

She also felt lighter too, like she had diminished some of the stress of her work. But it was about to change. She heard the faintest rustle of the plants- what little there were in this place, and immediately she fell into a careful stance. Her eyes narrowed, looking to every nook and cranny a beast would use to hide.

Her assailant wasn't a beast, as it sprung from the shadows; faster than she could counter; wrapping a clawed hand around her neck and flying upwards. She responded in turn, daggers drawn and on the wrist of the attacker; but stopped as she checked the height of them – no, if she made it let go, then she would just plummet to her death.

But surely, there was really only one she knew of that could gain such feet in so little time. Her eyes trailed, up the arm, and to the rightfully angry eyes of Kil'ruk, the Wind-Reaver.

"Where were you?" he demanded. "Did you think it would be funny to disappear on us like that? Did we give you permission to leave?"

"I don't need your _permission_ to traverse Pandaria as I see fit." she responded neutrally. "I suppose I should of told you, but I didn't want to meet with any opposition."

"Stupid!" the mantid hissed. "While you was away, another paragon was found. I had to resume my old task of awakening him, and jeopardised another mission of the Klaxxi to do so. Every action has a consequence and-" he sniffed the air, and found that the horrible smell was coming from her.

"What is that _horrendous _stench?"

"It's snowplum." she responded dryly. "I spent time with my husband, that's all. I didn't think that another Paragon would be found so quickly after the Bloodseeker."

"No, you didn't think." he grumbled. "Hisek the Swarmkeeper is waiting to meet you. It was thanks to him I was able to find you so quickly too."

Sherrah paused.

"Wind-Reaver.. were you worried?" she asked slowly. "Did you think I got hurt or killed?"

At first, Kil'ruk didn't respond, but instead, dropped her. She flailed her arms, a startled yelp followed by a frightful scream ripping from her throat. The worst part about the drop, was that she perhaps could survive it, but be in complete paralysis. Would have been better to die.

Of course, the Wind-Reaver had no intentions of killing her, simply dived after her, caught her, and continued onto Klaxxi'vess. He held her by the arms, as it was her punishment, rather than letting her sit on his back. Her feet dangled, and she could feel his deliberate slippery grip.

When they reached a much safer altitude at Klaxxi'vess, he dropped her unceremoniously on the ground.

The Wakener sighed, standing up and adjusting her armour, patting herself down and glancing up at the new paragon.

Hisek was similar size to Kil'ruk which also meant he was twice the height of the Wakener. His armour was coloured slightly different; black, with gold and orange trimming. He seemed to be more equipped than the other mantid; with thick metal armbands and ankleguards. An amber-crafted longbow resided on to the wall beside him, perhaps signalling his speciality.

Being as it was not her that awakened him, she felt nothing towards Hisek, and visa versa. He stared down at her, regarding her with intelligent eyes.

"A child of the Usurpers as our Wakener." he started. His voice was not necessarily cruel, but he certainly wasn't pleased with the situation. "An irresponsible one at that. Are the Klaxxi so desperate to allow such an insult?"

He sighed. "But a useful one, I have heard. The Bloodseeker sings of your battle prowess, and the Manipulator commends your mind. Good. You will have to be strong to withstand the whispers of the Empress."

"Whispers of the Empress?" the rogue repeated, eyebrows furrowing. "I've never heard anything yet." Of course, that _was_ because she was not of the mantid race. The Empress' sound was inaudible to her.

"That is good." Hisek nodded. "She is ever-present, whispering to us all. She is gripped by unrelenting fear and paranoia, and would stop at nothing to say us to her side. She will be dealt with for what she tried to do with the cycle, and the land."

"Walk with me, Wakener."

The Swarmkeeper took ahold of his longbow and quiver of amber-tipped arrows, turning and walking swiftly. The Wakener hurried after him, falling into step as they exited Klaxxi'vess and to a more open area. He halted her, while continuing on, until there was some distance between them. His wings; which had previously been hidden, spread, carrying him up into the air as he held his bow slack.

"You will face many things to come, Wakener. I have already injected you with.. my "gift". Look around you. It will reveal targets of great value."

She blinked. When did he..? Nevermind. She didn't want to ask. The Wakener looked around, nothing particularly stood out, aside from Hisek himself; until she froze. There. Out in the distance, over a hundred yards away; she could see it as clear as if it was close up. A beast; most likely a matriarch, pride and powerful.

Hisek followed her gaze, and locked onto the target. He took aim, and fired – and it was a perfect hit. The cries of the beast resonated; and it fell dead. Sherrah looked up at the paragon in awe.

"You will learn how to hunt like a mantid, Wakener." he said. "After our game, we will see to it that the ambersmith crafts you some proper weapons."

And hunt they did.

They traversed all around the Wastes, capturing and killing hundreds of prey. Naturally, Hisek's tally was higher than hers, but they didn't make it a competition. It was for her to learn, and she learned a great deal. The Swarmkeeper was initially impressed at her base skill, given her training of stealth and her advanced work of an assassin, and was glad he didn't have to start at square one.

He brushed up on her throwing skills; as the Wakener preferred using knives. It wasn't like a longbow, but he could improvise. From the shadowy branches and dead leaves, they hid successfully on one of the more sturdy, thick branches of Kor'vess. Below, several mantid toiled about, warcallers and battlesingers.

"They are mindless servants to the Empress." Hisek whispered lowly; having to crouch so precariously, like a coiled up spring. His head hovered just above her ear. "Eliminate that group, over there, without alerting the others of our presence here."

Sherrah bobbed her head, taking up a large knife, which subsequently split into three smaller, more nimble ones. The other two she held onto, while taking aim with the other. She hesitated.

"A perfect strike will require no hesitation. Relax. Take your time to note their movements. Remember that you are the hunter, and they are your prey." the Swarmkeeper informed her quietly.

"Hisek.. what is wrong with the Empress?" the Wakener found herself saying, as her pheromone enhanced eyes tracked the movements of the group below them. Hisek gave a grim, humourless smile.

"Paranoia grips her, Wakener. She is wrapped in fear. We must end her, to preserve the cycle." he paused. "It was not the first time it has happened. Perhaps if you are able to beat me on a hunt one day, I will tell you of my tales."

With that, Sherrah drew back her arm, and threw the first knife. Then came the second, third, a new blade produced to split into three more for her arsenal. Each one landed as they intended, into the necks of the Kor'thik Mantids. One survived, but Hisek made sure it did not squeal, with a single amber arrow.

"We have done enough today, Wakener." he announced. "Let us return to Klaxxi'vess. I shall see you there."

"I don't suppose _you _can carry me?"

"No."

"I thought not."

Hisek took off, leaving the Wakener to carefully make her way down the tree and begin that boring trek. If only her stupid gryphon didn't buck and leave


	7. Ka'roz the Locust

A sharp hissed escaped her, back arching and her eyes screwed shut. Her hands tightened around her knees, whispering a numerous of curses under her breath as the antiseptic soaked rag continued to wipe at the twin, languid wounds on her back, beating away any possibilities of infection and cleaning out the dirt that got stuck in there.

She was sat upon Xaril's alchemy bench, the various bubbling concoctions pushed aside to make room for her. Her leather tunic, snagged and ripped, lay beside her, as well as her undershirt. Even her mask was off, as the Poisoned Mind had to treat every wound. Out in the Wastes, it was too much of a risk in infection. She glumly looked over her shoulder, frowning at the two wounds which would form into scars.

"More to add, huh?" she dryly commented; as her back was already littered with combat scars alike. Her answer was merely Xaril pressing the bloodstained rag into the wound with unwholly necessary force. She bit her lip sharply to stop a pained whimper from escaping.

"You really should be more careful, Wakener." the mantid tutted. "You're lucky that your little journey awarded us with another Paragon."

"Ka'roz the Locust, correct?" she mused, glancing over to the small mantid, currently bothering Kil'ruk. He buzzed around him, speaking to him quickly. He turned his head, however, and met her gaze. With a single beat of his wings, he easily made it to the alchemy bench, smiling proudly.

"That is correct, Wakener! The Locust has returned! I was a proud warrior in my day, you know. I was the fastest, too!"

"Ka'roz, do stop bothering the Wakener while I'm trying to fix them up." the Poisoned Mind stated exasperatingly, trying to wave off the pest while he took a hold some clean bandages. There, he began to wrap Sherrah's midsection (as the wounds were on her lower back) and tightly tied it. He frowned as blood already began to spot through the cloth. Still, she turned, grabbing her shirt and pulling it on.

"How exactly did you manage to sustain this amount of wounds? Take your shirt back off, I'm not done, Wakener. Have a little patience."

She grumbled, but complied. As he now tended to the dark, purple bruises on her face, neck and upper chest, she explained. "Well, just before the Locust's awakening, I had to help a sea captain take down a large leviathan by the name of Jiao. I had been picked up off the boat I was on and thus I managed to gain a number of injuries."

"You're just too slow." Ka'roz 'helpfully' pointed out, "If you were quicker, you could of avoided getting hit."

"It was a small dingy of a boat." she replied. "Even if I was the fastest creature alive, I couldn't of gone anywhere."

"Then you should of flew up." the Locust shot back, folding his arms and huffing. "You could let the Dissector give you wings."

"Speaking _of _the Dissector, you can let him stitch these lacerations, you know." Xaril joined in, pulling back now that he was finished. Now, the rogue was able to pull her shirt and leather tunic back on, gingerly taking her mask and slotting it around her jaw, before pulling up the cloth covering. Then, she shot a look to both of the Paragons.

"You know how he gets. He'll get carried away and then I'll end up as an Amber Scorpion." Sherrah grumbled, folding her arms and wincing as she stepped down from the bench. The rogue did however glance over towards the Dissector, who had been appeased earlier from one of her tasks of bringing him a pristine mire eye. The less that was said about the result of it, the better.

"I don't want to be waiting around for you to get better!" Ka'roz proclaimed, stamping his taloned foot down. If anyone should learn a little patience, it would be him, the rogue thought. So, he grabbed under her arms, lifted her arm despite her protest, and buzzed over to Rik'kal. Dumping her onto the Dissector (literally) he frantically made his order for her to be "fixed"

Before the Paragon got any ideas, she blatantly told him exactly what was needed – merely a stitching. Nothing else.

Of course that didn't stop it from being the third most painful experience she ever had to suffer. With no sort of anaesthetic, she had to feel every single time the needle pierced her skin and looped around. The Locust did monitor it on her behalf, but she speculated that was perhaps his own sick curiosity of the practise rather than to make her feel safer.

"I've never worked on a specimen other than mantid before.. your flesh is so weak." Rik'kal commented ever so happily. "Certainly didn't want to use amber. I'm pretty sure that would mutate you and, sadly, you don't want to be a beautiful mass of parts and pieces."

"I like myself the way I am." the Wakener commented. "I don't need alterations to become powerful or beautiful or whatever you want to call it."

He sniffed. "Suit yourself."

"Are you finally done?" the Locust was quick to pitch in, hovering in the air with an annoying buzz of his wings. Rik'kal the Dissector finished up, having taken much longer than usual, as fixing was not particularly his speciality. He stepped back, allowing Sherrah for the third time that day to redress herself. The larger mantid tapped his claws together.

"Yes, yes, all finished up."

"Good!" Ka'roz stated, making a move to grab the Wakener. "Now The Locust can finally run with-"

Rik'kal smacked him on the head, stopping him from his path. "The Wakener is not to exert physical activity for a couple of days, or else the stitching will just come undone. 'The Locust' can go bug someone else for the time being."

"But the Locust-"

"No buts."

Sherrah couldn't help but smile pitifully as Ka'roz's shoulders slumped. Really, he acted like a hyperactive kid at times, if only he wasn't technically thousands of years old. She watched how there wasn't a buzz to his flight, and she shook her head. Still, the Wind-Reaver noted the Locust, and decided to spend time with the paragon in the Wakener's stead.

That at least made him feel a little better.

* * *

_AN: Just a small one this time. Didn't find much inspiration in Ka'roz. :L_


	8. Iyyokuk the Lucid

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to become Empress, Wakener?"

Sherrah stilled, slowly turning to the newest Paragon she had awakened. Most of the others had been sent off on tasks, leaving herself and the other Mantid the only ones milling around in Klaxxi'vess. Of course, there were the Elders themselves, forever communing with the amber resonating crystal with their expert knowledge on sonic manipulation.. but they were not good conversationalists.

Iyyokuk the Lucid was an interesting headcase. He was the only Paragon that had been fully awake and aware in all eight hundred and eighty seven years of his stasis. He himself had commented that it could have been his keen intellect that kept him from "shutting off" per say. However, he couldn't speak for his sanity. The human tried to imagine being unmoving for so long, on the verge of dying being constantly felt.

She felt sorry for him.

"I assume you mean of my race." she murmured. A humorous thought of her becoming the Mantid Empress drifted in her mind. What a long, strange and surreal trip that would have been.

"We have kings and queens, princes and princesses. But, I used to wonder what it would be like when I was a kid." she paused a moment, smiling wistfully at the memories of her childhood. "I'm not much of a leader, I'm afraid. My reign would be disastrous."

Iyyokuk nodded slowly. "Perhaps. It wouldn't be as bad as what our current Empress is doing to our land and our people. The Klaxxi have informed me. It's sad, really, to be gripped by fear and paranoia. However, if my calculations are correct, well, we wont have to wait much longer."

"It's strange. She is the Grand Empress of the Mantid, yet the Klaxxi are willing to assassinate her." the Wakener mused. "All for the sake of-"

"-Preservation, yes." he finished for her. "We must always follow the cycle. Besides, it would be the same for your ruler. If he, say, started a mass genocide, I am sure he would be quickly replaced, yes?"

"Of course." she replied. "He'd be imprisoned for life or executed for his crimes against the Alliance."

Iyyokuk fell silent, moving around the Rogue, eyes narrowed, squinted as she knew he must be 'calculating' again. He clicked and echoed; his words inaudible to her. Then, he stopped in front of her, smiling knowingly and began.

"But, if he was to cause said genocide on members of this.. Horde race, he would be called a hero, would he not?"

The human paused; frown prickling and eyebrow twitching. Despite Iyyokuk's possible insanity, that did not damper his high intellect. She shifted, feeling suddenly inadequate. She hadn't spent so much time in the Wastes that she lost her loyalty to King Varian Wyrnn, and the Alliance, but it was horrifying to say that there were the more.. reclusive members that would praise the king as a hero should he do such a thing to the Horde.

"..No.." she finally said after a brief hesitation. "The Alliance is not about that. We're not savages."

"No, I suppose not." he agreed. "But most of your race would see us, the mantid, as such, hm?"

Sherrah sighed, moving one of the storage crates and sitting upon it. It seemed like she would be here for a while. She leaned back, elbows resting on the crate as well, with one leg drawn up as she reclined. Coming up with an appropriate answer, hopefully one that he wouldn't be able to twist, she started.

"The members of the Alliance, and the Horde for that matter, are somewhat.. short-sighted. Some are ignorant and.. I don't claim to be the utter voice of reason, or the advocate of peace, but taking up diplomacy has opened me up to so much more cultures, and understanding the differences. I can set aside my own values and ideals to help the Klaxxi. Not everyone can." she paused, drumming her fingertips on the crate.

"The mantid are not savages, no. I see that now, even after what the Pandaren have told me. Your culture is rich, and it is a highly intelligent society. However.. yes. Most of us would see you and the Klaxxi and the entire mantid race as animals or bestial." she gave a casual shrug. "Sadly I don't think it'll change."

The paragon fell silent, his eyes judgemental. He seemed to dismiss his previous calculation of her, muttering something to himself as he perceives something else. "I knew it. At first, I thought you were Yellow to the number Five. By reworking the formula and given the new variables, I see now you are a Blue Sword."

"A _what?"_

"It means – well.." he chuckled. "I think it's best not to ask that question, Wakener."

"No, now I'm curious. First Hisek is able to somehow infest me with his.. _pheromones _without me even feeling it-"

"-Oh, you poor thing." he cut in, voice truly sympathetic.

"-and now you wont explain what the nether this Blue Sword nonsense is." she finished, leaning up from the crate and fixing Iyyokuk a steady glare. Her arms folded, and she could see her irritation only serve to amuse the Lucid. He spread his arms, gesturing grandly as he did so.

"You see, Wakener, all I see around me is numbers. It is so much easier to assign you in a much simpler category for you to understand than to explain my reasoning." he said. "Plus, if it's not obvious to you now, I doubt it ever will be.."

"Jokes on you." she rolled her eyes. "I use daggers, not swords. Guess you're wrong."

He cracked a smile. "You think it to be your weapon profession? My dear, you really are as small-minded as they say. Not very bright, for that matter."

Sherrah threw her hands up in defeat. "Well, excuse me for not having an education. My family was not wealthy, so it's not like I was able to learn. All my knowledge is self-earned experience, thank you very much." she grumbled, looking away, and adding as an afterthought "I don't need to know _formulas _and _calculations _to kill something. I'm not a mage."

"I envy you, Wakener." he mused, snickering softly at her little outburst. "To be able to see the world in it's natural, pureness, instead of numbers. You have peace of mind, free of whispers too. I truly envy you. There is something to be admired from simplicity, without having to be over analytic over everything."

"Spare me the 'I envy your simpleness' talk. It's rather degrading. I know your views on us lesser races, but I'd like to skip over all that." the Wakener replied sparingly. She heard it all before, from Xaril and Kaz'tik, and even Hisek to some extent. Of course, the former two use it more as a sarcastic gripe against her, the latter surprisingly does seem to be somewhat jealous of her position, which she didn't quite understand why. She thought it best not to ask.

"Much like your Alliance, there are some of us that does not hold that viewpoint, you know." the Lucid pointed out. "Kil'ruk has been rather accommodating over you, hasn't he? Hisek, too, hunts with you as he would any other partner, and you did not even awaken him. Skeer has even taken quite a shine on you."

"Don't forget Xaril wanting me to drink his poisons, and Kaz'tik trying to control me. Oh, and Rik'kal wanting to test and or dissect me."

"Yes, well, we all cant be winners." he cleared his throat. "We respect and appreciate you, Wakener. When the time comes, you'll know to make the right choice."

"Wait, right choice? What?" she blinked, furrowing her eyebrows. That came rather out of the blue, from the subject of envy to respect. Still, she had enjoyed the conversation she had with Iyyokuk, madness or no. "What are you talking about?"

He smiled knowingly, but didn't reply.


	9. Korven the Prime

Sherrah felt.. inclined to feel somewhat inferior to the paragon she stood next to. It wasn't that the constant prejudice of the mantid was slowly wearing on her self-esteem, no, it was what the one beside her represented. Her gloved hands rested slack against the curved hilt of her daggers, and her washed blue eyes stared out in the Wastes before them. They had been speaking quietly, but when they approached the hill; the paragon had spotted a tree.

Korven the Prime was that paragon. As his title suggested, he was the very first mantid to become a paragon, and even invented the amber stasis chamber. This is why she was obliged to show him respect – more so than she did the others. As a Wakener, she was somewhat of an honourary Paragon herself, and thus had to abide by their rules and regulations.

She turned her head, tilting it upwards as she looked up at the silent mantid. He had lapsed into sudden quietness after seeing Kypari Zar.

"When I returned from my final ravage, I was given the honour of planting that tree." he informed her finally. "I have seen it has grown into a great kypari."

The rogue bobbed her head in agreement. It was a mighty tree; however there was something.. off putting about it. The very ground around it was tainted, even she could tell that. Whenever approaching it; as she had done once before; it was as if her fears were amplified. Even if she tried to claim that she had no fear, there was still several ones that hindered her quite so. She frowned behind her mask.

"Come, Wakener. There is a an old sonar tower by the base of the tree. I can use that to take a closer look."

It was a short walk from their position, as Korven did not want to wait for her; thus she had to sprint. Sherrah sprung forward, rolled and dipped into the shadows; just in time for one of the toiling mantids to turn around. Seeing the Prime; it tried to call out in alarm that he was here; but she silenced him with a garrotte.

After it went limp, she let go and ambled on after the paragon. He stood at the sonar tower; regarding it carefully before slowly nodding to himself.

"I sense no amber sap running through it's veins. This is troubling.. Wakener! Guard me while I commune with the tower. I must examine it further." he said. She was surprised – usually the mantids that specialised in sonar manipulation didn't tend to be as big and bulky as Korven. It was quickly proven that the thought was small-minded; as he began to sing. The tower reacted; glowing bright, and the sound was..

Indescribable. Sherrah, one who liked to think she possessed a somewhat large extensive vocabulary through her missions of diplomacy, could not even bring herself to think of a single word to pin on what it sounded like. Her quest to think of how to would stop; as she was not the only one who heard his voice.

"Paragon! Klaxxi Infriltrator!" one cried; as several Ik'thik Towerguards began to swarm them. "Stop them! This is the Empress's Tower!"

Steeling herself, the rogue gathered all of her remaining throwing knives – around ten small ones per hand; and leapt into the group of mantids. It baffled them – very briefly – but turned to seize and kill. However, the trick was that; the moment her feet touched the ground, she spun, putting all force into it as she let her knives fly. The fan of knives spread in a circle, stabbing the Towerguards several at a time, wounding them.

Until the second fan of knives came; and the third, depleting her stock. She glanced around the corpses littering around her, daggers impaled into them. Korven was not finished, however, neither was the assault. Several more Ik'thik came to try and stop them, and the diplomat drew her amber enhanced daggers, courtesy of Hisek the Swarmkeeper.

Once more, she found herself stepping into the shadows to appear behind her victim; the vanishing act throwing some of them off. She dispatched one guard, grabbing it's body and turning just in time to use it as a shield against another's spear.

Throwing it forward, she pushed on, thrusting her dagger forward into the disorientated guard. Unfortunately, she did not realise the third one having came up beside her, spear aimed right at her.

She grit her teeth, preparing for the blow; but it never came. Korven had finished his song, having stepped in front of the rogue and caught the spear by the head. The guard paled, the paragon ripping it from his grip, wielding it himself briefly to impale the last mantid. It was gruesome, Sherrah thought; but effective.

"It is done." he announces sadly. "Kypari Zar is but a dried husk. It cries out in agony."

Silence fell on them once more, before the paragon continued.

"This tree cannot be saved. The swarm knows not of their terrible folly!" he spat, anger surfacing as Korven stormed out from the base of the tree. The rogue was quick to follow; but was wise enough to keep her distance.

"Wakener, I had seen there is a terrible creature that corrupts this tree beneath the roots. Despite your obvious weaknesses, I will aide you in this. Come!"

They ran downhill, to the Northwest to easily find the burrow; the roots of the kypari tree spread and corrupted. One of the large, thick roots had been uplifted by the creature that lurked within to allow room to make the burrow; and the rogue gingerly placed her hand upon the sha-corrupt part.

That turned out to be a stupid mistake; as all of her fears she thought of earlier amplified. A gasp escaped her, and she jerked her hand back. The whispers. What they had said. She furiously shook her head. Korven regarded her for a moment.

"This.. Sha seems to prey on your fears. It will be wise not to touch the dying kypari tree, Wakener." he told her. She nodded, looking white as a sheet.

As they entered the burrow; they saw the creature. It was a crocolisk matriarch, purple corrupt eggs littering all about the den, sapping away the tree's life energy. The Coldbite beast itself had an aura of fear; as it lay somewhat lazily; large bloated belly exposed. Upon seeing intruders, it gave a warning hiss; low and guttural, protective of it's unborn.

Some of the eggs were cracked, some were intact and the rest were already open, where the babies had most likely already begun to spread the corruption. Korven's eyes hardened at the sight.

Before Sherrah could even speak; the Prime leapt; right over the eggs and grappled with the pregnant beast. It snapped it's jaw, trying to lock it around his midsection and deliver a powerful bite; but he was far more agile. Joining the fight, the rogue carefully tip-toed around the eggs, before driving her dagger into the creature's back.

There, she was able to swiftly slide it upwards; paralysing the sha-infested beast long enough for the Paragon to land the finishing blow. That dealt with, she was about to make the careful journey back, until the Prime helpfully picked her up, holding her under an arm and jumping over the eggs once more.

"So it is done." he said. "It may not save Kypari Zar... but it will ease it's suffering."

"I'm glad." she replied. "..Can you put me down now?"

To her surprise, he didn't just drop her. He gently placed her back onto her feet, and looked to the distance – towards Klaxxi'vess. "I am strong enough to continue on my own, Sherrah. I must.. report this sha presence to the council immediately." he spared her a glance. "Should we meet again, it will be in Klaxxi'vess."

She nodded, waving as the Prime took off for that direction, and then it dawned on her. It suddenly hit her – like a smack in the face.

"Wait, did you just call me _by name?!" _

It was too late. Korven was already out of sight. She was stumped – a paragon that actually acknowledged her – listened to her and knew her name. She didn't necessarily introduce herself, as by now she knew she'd either be an 'it' or 'the Wakener'. But he took notice of her individuality, and that she was someone. She hadn't felt that since the start with Kil'ruk – and that was only privately.

Sherrah shook her head. "Maybe that whole Wakener bond wasn't just a theory after all. Or maybe he just doesn't care. Either way.. odd."


	10. Malik the Unscathed

Unearthing the last paragon, she was thrown into the tide of the siege.

_Heroes never die, Sherrah. _That was what the last Paragon had said to her as they took off. Her face was grave; white, and sporting sadness she did not realise she truly felt for the Klaxxi. The Empress had grown.. impatient. She appeared, in her sha-infested glory. Right there; in the middle of Klaxxi'vess.

The rogue had been stunned, staring in awe at her magnificent grace and beauty – yes, even she, of the human race, could appreciate the mantid beauty of both sexes. The crafted armour, ornaments, or flowing vestments tailored to their odd insectoid shape did it justice. If it was not for the monochromatic colours ruining her visage, and marring her claws and legs; she would have been perfect. Fear gripped her, radiated off her. With Hisek's pheromones, it was utterly gut-wrenching.

She destroyed that resonating tower the Klaxxi Elders swarmed around. The feedback had killed at least half of the council. This kicks started the paragons to move, to aim, to fire – but it was too late. The Empress vanished.

Sherrah found herself able to move moments after, hands shaking in shock of what she witnessed. Which brought her to present point. Her ebony gryphon did indeed manage to return to her; at very long last; which was useful. Malik the Unscathed had pointed out he witnessed a large army amassing. The Empress declared them to be crushed. They had to break the siege.

Thus, she was riding atop her mount, beside the last Paragon as they passed over the preparing swarm. Her numb fingers dug into the oily feathers of the birdlion, urging it forward despite it's cawing protest. She whispered soft encouragements to it, even if her words were empty and hollow – an exact copy of what she felt inside.

She felt her feeble heart thump against her chest like a wardrum; hearing the unsteady beat against her ears, sudden dizziness overtaking her as they descended onto the steps. The Heart of Fear.

Ungracefully, she stepped onto the ground, giving a light smack to her bird to fly back into the air and circle while things proceed. It looked more than happy to bolt rather than stay, but for once, it obeyed. _Heroes never die. _If Malik's words were to be true, why did she feel so nervous so.. scared? She hesitantly drew her daggers, twirling them around and holding them tightly – too tightly, at the handle.

They ascended the stairs, looking to the gate.

"Who holds this swarm!" the Unscathed voice bellowed. With the absence of any clear general, or the Empress herself, it was distressing. "Show yourself! Answer to the Klaxxi."

The doors opened. The Wakener almost dropped her weapons at the sight.

A mantid walked out – was it a mantid? From her viewpoint, it was almost.. god-like. Thick golden and purple armour adorned his person; cloth vestments protruding from the pauldrons. His forelegs were encased in matching armour; and his eyes were too unnaturally bright teal. A large circular disk shape hovered behind him; giving him an almost encirclement of light or the sun – very much symbolic to what she had seen Paladins or Priests have.

It was as if religious for him; the way he served his Empress. Perhaps she was more than an 'empress' in his eyes. A divine being that must be worshipped.

His wings were not like what she had seen; there were large; placed on his lower back and webbed; but instead of being completely translucent they were almost charcoal black. They were only partly clear. Like any of his race, he was abnormally large, easily dwarfing herself and even Malik. He would even top Korven by miles; and the Prime was the largest Paragon she had come across.

Slowly; he fixated those eyes onto them. They were not worth his time. Not even a second. He had an air of both grace and fanaticism it was almost chaotically poetic.

"Treasonous Klaxxi." he spat. Even in contempt, his voice was melodic. As.. melodic as it can be, after getting past the clicking and the clacking of their mandibles and cords, and the usual shrieking and pitch that made mantid's voice highly unpleasant to actually listen to, unless they were singing.

"Her magnificence was right about you."

"Speak your name, puppet!" Sherrah snapped her head to Malik, horrified. He could show such disrespect? She found it a hard time even looking at the great mantid; let alone finding the voice to speak or utter a single word. She felt so insignificant in all of this, out of place. She didn't belong in this war, this politics.

But she did. She steeled herself. She WAS apart of their war. She was the Wakener. The rogue was not about to let this overstuffed peacock of a mantid let her traversing of the Wastes and risking her life on a daily basis be all for naught. Naturally... things were easier said than done. But she tried to force herself past the stupor, at least enough so that she could survive should things go south.

"Grand Vizier Zor'lok, voice of the Empress."

Ahah. So he _is _of importance. Kaz'tik had mentioned something about a Zor'lok, and she looked back on it now – if the paragon believed that he had such a voice to match the Grand Vizier, then he must be too proud of himself. It was he, Zor'lok, that relayed the Empresses messages, speaking to the fear driven army. He, who commanded the swarm, with such loyalty.

"The Klaxxi have pronounced judgement! Stand or be brushed away!"

The Grand Vizier sniffed indignantly. "The _Klaxxi _are to be disbanded, by the will of the Empress."

"Blaspheme!"

Malik rose up, ready to strike. Sherrah took this as her queue to start. She leapt up the stairs, falling into position as it dawned on her.. she couldn't really take out Zor'lok by herself, could she? Of course, Malik was there; but no doubt he possessed some measure of power-

"Very well: Let us finish this." The Vizier caught the paragon in a web of sonic manipulation, which she had just noticed through a harsh whisper. With careful movements of his hands, he immobilised the mantid in the air, before clenching his fists; subsequently amplifying the noise to the point of destructive levels. It was but a hum to her – white noise; but to Malik; it tore his very body; causing it to implode in a shower of body parts.

She tried desperately to scream, bravado of before tossed straight out of the window as he managed to slay the paragon without so much as a blink. Perhaps she was lucky; but the Vizier did not even seem to take note of her presence. Or, if he did, he certainly did not think her enough to waste his breath.

"Unscathed indeed." he sneered. There, he inhaled; and belted out an order that stretched to the very edges of the Wastes. It was here, Sherrah witnessed the power of his voice; of his echo, his verve. "Forward! The Klaxxi reveal themselves as traitors. Decimate them, and leave nothing behind."

Their gazes locked, for but a fraction of a second. She tensed. Zor'lok merely turned around, and returned into the Heart of Fear.

There, she managed to speak for the first time.

"_Shit._"

It was not just her and Malik that had came to stop the swarm; the rest of the Paragons had come too. She needed to gather them and find them. Help them. Perhaps kill a few mantid herself.

But Klaxxi'vess must_ not _fall. Nether – while she stood, Klaxxi'vess _shall _not fall!

* * *

AN: _This is part 1, the next one will include a wrap up to 'The Wrath of Shek'zeer' and 'Shadow of the Empire'. _


	11. Wrath of Shek'zeer

Never has exhaustion ever ached so badly in her muscles, in ever fibre of her being. Sweat clung to her face and hair like tar, her armour never felt so constrictive. There was a budding of fear, naturally, but she was taking the bull by the horns. Rather, the mantid by the forelegs. Her amber-crafted daggers sliced easily through the masses of subjugates, her mind a blur as the calling of combat overtook her.

A dodge to the left – thrust the dagger forward; sweep, spin, throw down the smoke ball; pounce, ambush, back stab – Dispatch!

Gingerly, she stepped over the encirclement of corpses; ears prickling as she caught the unearthly cry of a Kunchong. She knew one thing, it didn't belong to Kovok. With a heavy heart and the weight of what she might have to do fall onto her shoulders, she dragged herself over towards the source of the sound.

Skeer the Bloodseeker gave a hearty cackle of enjoyment as he fought against the mighty beast; streaks of wounds on his chitin and ichorous blood spewing out of the languid lacerations, painting his body. He relished in his own fluid; as it was not just his own that stained his person. The kunchong was, rightfully massive, yet covered in grievous wounds that was starting to slow it's attacks, prolonging the strikes against the paragon.

"Come, sister!" he sung; raising his amber greatsword to block an oncoming devastating slash from the beast. "Fight beside us; show NO mercy! Thrive on the scent of blood!"

Sherrah's eyes immediately glanced to the skies, noting two other Paragon swarming the Kunchong. Iyyokuk the Lucid lazily kept himself up tracing patterns of symbols with his gnarled, orange staff, muttering to himself as he finished his calculation. He gave a smirk, then signalled the other mantid – Kil'ruk the Wind Reaver, pointing at the rogue below.

Complying, the paragon swooped down, picking up the Wakener by the under arms and taking her to the skies. She shot him a confused look, as he began to explain.

"I'm going to throw you on Akkolon's face. Gouge his eyes out, Wakener. Skeer and I shall do the rest."

Helpful.

Encasing her in a sonic barrier that would dampen any harm that befell her; the Wind-Reaver gathered her up and shot her down at the Kunchong. The feeling was, in the nicest of words, horrible, but she had a small time window to grasp a hold of the mandible, shred her shield and swing herself into position on the mouth piece.

She uneasily found footing on the mandible, that wouldn't pierce through her boots; but it was uncomfortable, having to twist her body at an odd angle. She felt the beady red eyes of the beast focus onto her; dilating at her closeness. The rogue offered a lopsided grin, twirling her dagger up and forcing it straight into it's eye.

Akkolon gave out a pained scream; and being so close, Sherrah believed she was going to go deaf. There was a ringing in her ears that thudded and hurt; but she had no time to dwell on that, for the kunchong was already whipping it's head back and forth, trying to shake her off, while still defending itself of Skeer's and Kil'ruk's assault.

She took it upon herself to inflict as much damage as she could whilst she was up there; mutilating it's face with her poison coated daggers, before eventually forced to leap off the mandible and dive down. A grunt, mangled with pain and fatigue escaped her as she ungracefully barrelled to the ground, rolling to stop, and picked herself up in a crouch.

With weakened carapace and natural armour the beast let out a mournful cry, pitiful in it's call. The Bloodseeker was quick to put it out of it's misery, displaying a mastery over his blade through slaying the kunchong.

"South-west, Wakener! You'll find Xaril, Rik'kal and Ka'roz. Time is of the essence!" the Wind-Reaver urged, hovering momentarily and eyeing the rogue. She definitely looked worse for wear – not that he was worried or concerned, of course. Still, he picked up the pace. "Myself, Skeer and Iyyokuk will join our other brothers to the north-west. Meet us there when you have dealt with Shox'tik."

Iyyokuk followed in his stead; whereas Skeer lingered for a moment longer to help the Wakener up to her feet. He gave a rough pat to her shoulder, staining the pauldron crimson from his bloodied hands. "The thrill of the battle is invigorating, no? Do not get killed. You.. humans are quite fragile, as I have come to note!"

"Thanks, Bloodseeker." she quipped. "I'll _try _not to die out here."

He departed; leaving for the other Paragons as she twisted and sprinted ahead.

* * *

"Missed!"

"Oooh, Missed again!"

"Looks like you missed."

"You almost grazed me then! But not really."

Ka'roz was utterly enjoying himself. His speed was unmatched, and was proving a difficult target for the airborne archer. He leapt; subsequently using those winds to propel himself further as an arrow pierced into the ground, where he last stood. His talons barely touched the floor before he was jumping once more.

Rik'kal, however, was being dragged along. Given how he was not as speedy as The Locust, the former had decided to grab a hold of his arm and bring him along for the jumping. He, was enjoying it a little less than him. Given how Shox'tik stuck to the air; he found himself unable to actually harm the mantid.

Xaril idled in the air, creating rather destructive serums and focusing on keeping grounded swarmborn at bay; throwing the explosive concoction down at them. He sometimes warranted the archer's attention, but he was nimble, and a flying target was just as hard to hit as a moving one.

Sherrah entered the picture, yelping in surprise as an amber arrow nicked her arm, before emedding into the ground before her. She glanced up at the mantid – but like Ka'roz, she was quick to put forth a burst of speed, pushing her aching and exhausted muscles into their full potential. She quickly swerved, dodging – barely – the serum that Xaril tossed down.

One goal was clear: Ground Shox'tik.

"Rik'kal!" she called, as Ka'roz zoomed passed her. "Pass me your knife!"

"Don't you have your own tools?" he asked as the Locust made another round, manoeuvring around the rogue. The Dissector rolled his eyes, turning his head to the Paragon. "Slow down to the Wakener's speed."

"But she's so _slow!" _he complained. With a hard stare from the other, he begrudgingly complied. The Locust was forced to give a slow trot; matching the human's bursts of speeds and sprinting to avoid the volley of arrows descending upon them.

"Talk later! Give me the knife!"

With a sigh; Rik'kal offered her the precise tool, more used for medical practise (or in his case, malpractise) than an actual weapon. Still, it was sharp; and mantid's wings were only so strong. The rogue suddenly hung back after receiving the weapon; and with an expert hand of throwing knives, she shot the tool straight into the air, piercing Shox'tik's wings.

Unable to keep himself hovering; his now ripped wings beat sporadically, mostly in pain. The mantid landed; however he tried not to let that deter him. He growled out, mixed with pain. "You'll pay for that, insolent lesser race!"

Unfortunately for him, the Locust was now free to attack him. Dropping the Dissector off carefully; the speedy paragon latched onto Shox'tik like a parasite, clawing and tearing – and at this point, Sherrah turned away, disgusted at the sight.

Xaril lowered himself, nodding to the Wakener. "Good timing. Now that Ka'roz is.." he offered a glance to the paragon. "..finished mutilating Shox'tik beyond comprehension, let us join our brothers. There is one last thing to do, and then the siege would have been halted, for now."

"Please tell me it is not related to the large monochromatic behemoth of a Sha to the north."

"Let us go conquer it, dear Wakener." he chuckled. She didn't find the action encouraging, at all. She really wondered if it was worth, possibly her life over. Still, she mused, she had come so far. It'd be pointless to turn back now, after getting so caught up the mantid's affairs. She sighed, raising a hand and wiping some sweat off her forehead.

There, she made her way towards the Manifestation of Terror.

* * *

It was more than simply a large monochromatic behemoth of a Sha.

Insidious spikes littered upon it's black body; white patterns staining all around it. It's hands were tipped with wickedly curved claws; itself held up by an amass of black smog and smoke and shadow. The very ground upon which is stood was twisted beyond recognition.

As the Paragons swarmed around the Manifestation, it let out a bellowing, ripped cry from it's gaping maw of serrated teeth and unpleasantness, raising a hulking arm and smacking the pathetic attempts of damaging it – Kil'ruks dives, Hisek's arrows, all of it was for naught.

Sherrah entered the picture then, heart pounding against her chest. It was like the sound was amplified; all her of fears, all of her worries surfacing as a non-stop whisper in her mind, or a constant theatre in her head of images of her fears.

She did the most logical thing.

The rogue ran up to the Sha and pierced it with her dagger. Indeed, the weapon did slice through the body easily; but it did not hinder nor harm it. Black goo – like ink, spilled out, creeping down her arm as she quickly found out her hand, and quickly her arm, was stuck in the Sha. Her fears intensified as she struggled so desperately against the monstrosity.

It made a horrendous noise like laughter, proceeding to swipe at the mantid like they were mere common insects. The gunky, oily ink continued to spread and entrap her the further she resisted, rooting her and enveloping her as the whispers grew in volume. The paragon's own voices were nothing but murmurs to her. All of her fears, her doubts.

Her fear of dying prematurely, leaving many matters unresolved, many quests incomplete.

Her fears of loss, of friends, family, love.

Her fear of inadequacy, failure, and unable to be useful for herself, her guild and the Alliance.

She was abruptly brought out of her trance of brief madness, the feeling of being tugged made apparent. Kil'ruk frantically tried to pull her out of Sha's embrace, but it was proving difficult. She realised why – she was being a dead weight, not at all helping the situation. Everything seemed to fall back into motion. Sound was returned to her.

"Kil'ruk!" she stated. The Wakener twisted around the best she could, grasping the mantid's upper arms and forcefully pulling herself with his attempts. His wings beat furiously, and slowly, but surely, the more she pushed aside her fears, the easier it became to break free of the Manifestation's grasp. The sticky-goo like tendrils tried to cling, but they snapped and peeled off.

The Sha was not amused.

It focused upon them, drawing up the negative energy and the darkness, encompassing it in a solid bolt of destructive power. The Manifestation of Terror directed it to the two now airborne paragons – well, a paragon and a half – watching it ripple through the air and soar straight towards them. Shock and confusion were things the beast of fear could not feel or experience; but at the moment, as the bolt hit them yet appeared to do nothing, it would.

After all, the rogue had drew upon that very same source to create the infamous cloak of shadows, protecting herself and Kil'ruk briefly. She grinned. The very act of being able to express herself other than fear shown herself free – she could face the fears, and crush her terror.

That was what the Wakener did, with assistance of the only – and admittedly – unafraid Paragon.

* * *

_AN: Whaaaaaaao this took way too long to write I apologise. I hit a writer's block at like. Page 1._


	12. Paragons of the Klaxxi

She started to carry his spear from the Heart of Fear back to Klaxxi'vess.

It wasn't going to be the most forgiving trip, either. More suited to nimble, lithe daggers, the heavy amber encased polearm was quite a baggage to carry. She felt entitled – inclined to do so. The other Paragons had left at this point; buzzing with satisfaction of their victory. She was long forgotten by that point. Well, perhaps not completely.

She felt something grasp at her arm; and she turned her head to gaze over her shoulder. Kil'ruk lingered, halting her before, wordlessly, he took the spear off her hands, easily handling it with a single hand. Sherrah pursed her lips behind her mask; but she was thankful. The weight was starting to bear down on her shoulders.

There was a strange silence between them, and hesitantly, she began to climb aboard the mantid. When it was obvious he wasn't about to throw her off; she settled quite nicely upon his back; crouched, and clutching a part of his carapace. He took off, and the journey was fermented with an oddly calm anxiety. She had hoped he'd say something – anything, but, apparently not.

"I could of prevented it." she murmured, unsure. "Done.. something. Shadow-step, kick.. even just throwing my dagger. Anything."

Kil'ruk lightly shook his head. "The results would have been the same, if not more dire. You would have met your end."

"Are you so certain?" said she.

"Completely." he confirmed, and they both lapsed into quietness.

The remaining elders were certainly pleased with the results of the paragon's work, chittering and clicking as all went according to plan. The remaining nine talked amongst themselves, discussing and the future plans to begin a siege upon the Heart of Fear's entirety. The time of the offensive, was now. With them distracted, it was easy for the Wind-Reaver to slip past unnoticed, landing besides the weapon racks.

Sherrah slid off his back, feet touching the ground as a rogue thought of hibernating for a couple of weeks drifted through her mind – her muscles surely could do with the rest. She dismissed both that; and the very fact that she was getting too old for this. Shaking her head, the Wakener focused on Kil'ruk placed the spear onto the rack, the only token left of the Unscathed.

"Is this is?" she finally spoke up once more. "No.. soldier's funeral or-" she was quickly cut off by a weak chuckle from the paragon.

"You only understand a part of our order, Wakener. You are an outsider, and have been treated as much." He turned, facing the human and staring down at her. His forelegs twitched for a moment, contemplating, before he continued.

"It is no longer appropriate that we keep our secrets from you. There is something you should see."

Sherrah peered at him curiously, an eyebrow perking up in interest. He started to move at a brisk pace; towards the large amber engraved doors; guarded by two of the Klaxxi's own soldiers. They approached it – and once more, a fleeting thought filtered through her mind. Was this going to be her end, then? The 'swift death' that Riki had mentioned. A frown rose to her lips behind the mask – no.

She understood them more now. She liked to think she was still useful to them.

They reached the door; and Kil'ruk waved off the two guards the moment the Wakener's presence was known – they understood, that it was time. They allowed the Wind-Reaver to open the door, and during the walk, he began to speak once again.

"We mantid are an elder race, far older than you imagine. The Pandaren you have associated with – they are but children." he started; yet his words held no malice. "They have their roles to play."

"Each cycle, our young swarm their walls.."

He continued like this, describing the process. All the while, she only paid half a mind to his words; the other was her blue eyes scanning the chamber they descended in. It was entirely made out of kypari, and even in this, previously inaccessible area to her, there were guards upon every inch. She wouldn't know why she'd attempt to break into here – or anyone for that matter – other than a foolish endeavour of thinking there might have been treasure or powerful equipment.

No, there was no treasure here, no weapons of unthinkable quality, no beasts of fable to ride upon in the heat of the battle.

There was something far more interesting to marvel at. Even as Kil'ruk continued to talk (which, she regretfully tuned out most of it) her eyes were drawn to the centrepiece of the chamber. They stopped infront of it, to which Kil'ruk turned towards her, antennae flicking back.

Before them stood a mural of some kind, depicting a vaguely goat-like head; complete with horns and the eyes- they felt like they pierced right into her soul, even if it was just a picture.

_Y'shaarj._

In translation: Old God. Not something that Sherrah quite particularly worshipped.

"If the Old Ones ever return, we mantid will once again stand by their side." He stared straight at her – his glance strange. She returned his gaze levelly, biting her lip and with a look in her eyes that displayed her uncertainty. She was unsure if she should even speak.

"The wisest amongst you will do the same."

* * *

She didn't want to believe it was true.

Of course, the moment she was able too, after a considerable amount of time had passed, she and her husband both joined up in the siege against Orgrimmar. They, along with many other adventurers and soldiers, grouped up with Vol'jin's Darkspear Revolutionaries.

They tore down the towers and stormed the docks, they had ripped the Iron Juggernaut apart.

Revenge was given to the elementals as they helped slaughtered their dark masters, giving them peace of mind.

An honourable death had befell Nazgrim, and followed him the dishonourable fall of Malkorok.

Retrieved, the spoils back to their rightful owners (atleast, the pandaren) and hastily shut down the "safety" code with a system reset. An impressive battle against the beasts of war came next; in the form of Thok the Bloodthirsty.

Siegecraft Blackfuse; a merciless one was he. They smashed up his precious toys and dealt him a defeat that suited the engineer.

Now, here they stand, before something, Sherrah did not want to believe was true.

The first red flag was raised when the presence of mantid influence was high – several soldiers and highly qualified warriors that she had even seen toiling in Klaxxi'vess once before. Surely – desperately surely, that they had gone rogue and Hellscream recruited them.

No. They would never stoop to that level; and the human knew she was just trying to soften the inevitable blow. The group comprised of a variety of races; entered the chamber, and even now she could feel a comforting arm snake around her waist and give her slight comforting gesture. She offered the weakest smile back to Meridia.

The Paragons of the Klaxxi turned to them

"Look, brothers! The Wakener is here!" gestured Kil'ruk, his voice strong, yet with the smallest hint of regret.

"They made it this far? I told you the others needed some microsonic genetic alterations!" proclaimed Rik'kal, tone scathing and blaming.

"How illogical, did they not take your warning Kil'ruk?" Iyyokuk calmly stated, a touch of surprise on his features – but curious nevertheless.

"We Mantid serve a power far greater than they or their gods." Xaril scoffed, folding his arms and looking down upon the group

"It matters not. The Old One will not suffer their intrusion." followed dismissively by Kaz'tik.

"We have endured the Usurpers, their children, the loss of the Old One, and soon... you." Korven said, confidence in his posture.

"We will slay you all as easily as we slew the pandaren of old!" hastily told Ka'roz, who just wanted nothing more than to start the fight.

"And then the Old One will remake this world for the Mantid!" added Skeer, equally eager.

"Come, children of the Titans, you face the Paragons." finally finished Hisek bow drawn and wings beating hastily.

It was this moment Sherrah found herself thinking back to Malik, the Unscathed. He, like his brothers, would of perhaps joined up with them. Even so, she could still faintly hear his words ringing in her head; giving her purpose as she slipped into the shadows; ready to begin.

_Heroes never die._

* * *

_A/N: Well, that's it folks. It's been a fun ride!_ _As for my next story.. well, don't expect it soon. I want to come up with a completely original plot, not just rewrites all the time. _  
_Also, I think, as an ending apology for anyone who wanted to read this but got totally turned off by Sherrah for not liking her character or something. Just. Sorry._


	13. Slow Days - Skeer

_AN: Well, i'll yank this story back out of complete and add a few more oneshots to the collection. Now that the general idea and how I portray the Paragons and Sherrah is laid out, you know what to expect._

_Truly, I thank all of my reviewers, readers, and even people who had enough interest to click the story. _

_I think i'll adress a few things I put in others - like a reviewer said "Why did Korven call Sherrah by name?" And I do have an idea for this. I may also write up one of those sessions between herself as Kaz'tik to which got her so riled up. _

_Without further ado.._

* * *

It was a slow day.

For the Klaxxi, that meant that what could be done to turn the war against Shek'zeer's favour, would have to wait for now, as their forces were busy elsewhere; split up and incremented at several key points the Elders believed to be best; whereas other drones were hard at work investigating and searching the locations of the other Paragons.

Amber-smiths toiled lazily with their works; as there was no new armaments needed to be made to equip the reawakened, the weapon racks were stocked, piled with halberds and swords alike. The current Paragons that were there felt themselves restless with inactivity.

Likewise, Sherrah found herself mulling, useless and bored. She tried to help out to the point of even asking the smiths, but she was quickly ushered away as they wanted nothing to do with the human. When she was introduced to this culture, it was made blatantly clear that they only kept her around because of her uses. Without them, well, she wouldn't still be there.

Which is why she hated the inaction now. Sadly, there was nothing she could do about it. Sitting on an empty crate, she idly drew a dagger and a piece of windwool cloth; as well as bottle of vague cleaning fluid (kudos to Xaril, the Poisoned Mind) and popped open the cork.

Of course, being a concoction made by the _Poisoned Mind_, the moment she pressed the cloth to the bottle's head and tipped it down; the liquid spilled onto it and began to eat away at the fibres. It was at such a rate she did not even realise until it began gnawing on the leather of her left glove.

She gave a startled shout, throwing it off and watching as it ate away through the fingertips, and utterly ruining the piece beyond recognition. She cradled her left hand close to her chest, thoughts of loosing her limb. Sherrah shot a glare to the back of the oblivious paragon.

The rogue contemplated just letting it drop, but she was, as mentioned, so desperately bored. Her socialisation with others consisted of being received tasks, and insults. Neither of them had occurred as of late.

"I don't know if Mantid are capable of limb regeneration, but unfortunately I'm not." she briskly started, hopping off the crate and being extremely careful in inserting the cork back on. The Wakener marched right up to the Paragon and placed the solution onto his alchemy table.

"No?" he replied absent-mindedly, mixing two oddly coloured liquids together in their vials. "Shame."

"I asked for a _cleaning solution."_

"I gave you one. I fail to see the problem."

"Oh, I'm sure it cleans well, alright, after it'd take my hand off." she pointed out, folding her arms. Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance as she was unable to even warrant him looking at her.

"You are stupid enough to pour it on your hands? I must of overestimated you."

She raised her now gloveless hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, grumbling some obscenities under her breath. The mantid's antennae flicked back, catching what she murmured.

"My, my, Wakener. A little more like that and I'll make you drink it." he said, which did manage to get at least a wry grin out of him, clicking his mandibles in mock disapproval.

She opened her mouth to brusquely retort despite her better judgement, when she was saved from that mistake by a hissing growl. Her gaze trailed away from Xaril to the source of the sound – another Paragon whom was just as agitated, perturbed and unruly as the rest of them.

He had impaled a good half of his amber great sword into the dirt below; clawed fingertips twitching in frustration. The Paragon's wings buzzed annoyingly as he rose up, grabbing the handle of the sword and tugging upwards to free it from it's earthy prison. Landing, the Mantid was quick to brandish it as display his sword prowess at his invisible foe.

Yet, his ire continued to grow, she noted, as it became unsatisfactory without a real opponent to fight against. His growl was present once more, before he finished his last swing.

"I need to kill something." he stated, clearly it being the only cure. "All this waiting around is driving me crazy!"

Xaril himself paused at his fellow paragon's statement; turning sharply and suddenly grasping Sherrah by the upper arms. The rogue gave a noise, as she was picked up and brought over towards Skeer. The situation became clear; and she frantically flailed her legs. She even tried to swiftly kick the paragon backwards; but her boot heel only connected with his forelegs; which barely made them even twitch.

"Bloodseeker! I have the _perfect _task for you!" the Poisoned Mind almost sang. He dropped the Wakener unceremoniously before the other. She picked herself up; although her body was tense with what he may suggest.

"Our little Wakener finds themselves without work, and is quite distracting me from mine. You find yourself with ample time to spare; so I task you with butchering- er, training it." He clasped his hands cheerfully at this declaration; even after Skeer's rather puzzled look at his choice of words.

"I don't need training." Sherrah cut in. "I had ten years of combat expertise and then eleven years of field experience, and counting."

Xaril merely tutted. "I thought I told you – one must never settle for second best. Your skills are acceptable. Become exemplary."

"It'll take more than one session-"

"Good!" He grinned. "Continue to have on-going sessions with the Bloodseeker. _Continue _to improve. That is, of course, if he is willing to take you on as a sparring partner."

They both looked to the paragon. Skeer regarded the Wakener lightly, eyes examining every detail. When a sigh escaped him and the very slight of his shoulders relaxing; she knew the answer already. He gave a passing gesture; and the Poisoned Mind nodded; leaving the two alone.

* * *

"Very well, Wakener. I will spar with you. What weapons are you proficient in?" he asked, gesturing her to follow him as the two of them exited Klaxxi'vess and into a more open area. They had not moved that far; she could still plainly see the others. She focused her attention up to him and answered.

"Daggers and throwing knives, primarily. Although I was trained to be able to use one-handed swords, maces, axes and fist weapons." There was a pause, then added as an afterthought; "I did use the old Merciless Gladiator's fist weapons once-"

There was an amused snort, even after clear curiosity began to fall onto his face. "Gladiator?" Skeer questioned. "You fought in some kind of arena..?"

The grin she displayed was not one he expected; even hidden because of her mask, the way her eyes upturned and wrinkled in the corners shown such genuineness that he had not seen before. Even more bizarrely, was a chortle that escaped her.

"I don't like to admit it, but there was.. the younger years of my life when I didn't care of helping the Alliance and much more preferred playing war games. The Arena was a seasonal competition, and oh, what days." Sherrah gave a reminiscing sigh. "We won matches, we lost matches, but it was fun."

"We?"

"My husband and I." she clarified. "Some matches tended to get quite bloody. The title _Merciless _Gladiator was aptly named, shall we say." a brief silence. "You don't believe me, do you?"

It was his turn to chuckle. "I have a hard time imagining you or your race being anything even close to merciless or gladiators. You're all soft shelled, bleed at the slightest shy of the blade." he told her. He shook his head, then gestured a drone over. The two exchanged words briefly; low clicking and clacking that she couldn't decipher. The smaller mantid (roughly Sherrah's size) eyed the Wakener balefully, but left.

He returned a moment later bearing left and right arm-blades; distinctly amber crafted and in pristine condition – which meant it had yet to even be used. She suspected the Mantid had less use for such weapons due to their own natural defences. After ccepting the pair; the drone was quick to leave the two.

She brushed her gloveless hand over the craftsmanship, tips of her fingers tracing the design. Not wanting to keep Skeer waiting, however, she slowly slotted them over her arms, wicked blade extending far past her hands as she grasped the inner metal handles.

The Paragon and Wakener distanced each other. "Let us begin." he said; a frown popping up on his face as the rogue was nowhere to be seen. Of course – stealth. He slowly fell into his stance, eyes surveying the area and antennae alert.

The slightest noise sent him spinning with his blade; slicing the air vertically and – just as he thought, stopping the woman from ambushing him from behind. She brought up her arms together, using the blades as a makeshift shield to block the attack, being knocked back a few inches from the deflection.

He continued to strike against her, sending her back further and further. However, he did temper his attacks; as he could easily overpower her from sheer size and strength alone. Sherrah waited for the opportune moment to quickly dodge and roll to the side; his blade meeting the ground. She sprung up, attempting to even hit him once. It was a failure; as he merely blocked her assault with a swing.

"Your attacks are too predictable." he commented. "You said you was a gladiator? Bah! You wouldn't even make it past entry!"

"I can hardly use all of my tactics." she pointed out, keeping her footing light as she begun to dodge his deliberately slow swings. "This is only a spar."

He tsked, picking up the pace and effortlessly beginning to overwhelm her with fast strikes of the powerful weapon. She got his point – there was no need for _her_ to hold back. She merely smirked.

"If you insist."

She vanished – immediately, just like that, she was gone again. He pursed his lips, frowning as he drew his blade closer to him cautiously. This time, however, he found that he couldn't detect her at all – at least, for a few seconds. By the time she was in position, it was too late for him. Sherrah pounced, landing forcefully onto Skeer's abdomen, garrotte looping round his neck and began to constrict tightly.

The barbed wire pricked deeply into it; although she was unable to draw blood yet due his chitin. The blades from her fist weapons also served as a barricade to try and stop him from struggling, unless he wanted to sever his own head.

But Skeer was never helpless, in any situation.

Either she wasn't expecting the attack or had been blinded not to realise the sharp blade-like limbs protruding out from his elbows; but he rapidly begun to thrust his arms back. This forced the rogue to momentarily tighten the garrotte to swing herself over his shoulder and avoid being impaled. Her arm-blades clashed with his breastplate with this action.

A few seconds later, he perhaps would of fainted from the asphyxiation, but he smacked the rogue away the moment she swung over. Her grip loosened, thus freeing up his neck and allowing him to greedily gulp the air. Light indents around his neck were left in the shape of the wire, and he ripped it off.

He didn't stop there, using the opening he created to storm over to the disorientated rogue, easily breaking through the weak defence she tried to put up with an downwards arc and stomped onto her chest; forcing the wind out of her and pinning her into place.

She tried to bring up her legs in a last resort to kick him; but he increased the weight and pressure, stopping her. She could only manage a wheezing gasp and a diluted glare.

The tip of his amber blade rested on the side of her neck, piercing the skin just enough to leave a few beads of blood drip from it.

"You lost."

Skeer the Bloodseeker took up the mantle of continuing to train her; with each session getting her reacquainted with her weapon skills and even introducing some new ones. The other Paragons had no qualms with this – it kept them both busy on slow days.


End file.
